


It Happened One Night

by Phosphorescent



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, Episode Tag, Episode Tag: s01e09 Sanctuary, Episode: S01E09 Sanctuary, F/M, Half-Forgotten Fics from Ye Olde Hard Drive, Missing Scene, Post-Episode: s01e09, Thanksgiving Dinner, Unresolved Sexual Tension, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-01-30 20:52:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12661194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phosphorescent/pseuds/Phosphorescent
Summary: “Let’s just say grace and dig into this delicious food,” Irving said. “Maybe you can persuade me to share more later—I’ve been told I’m more suggestible on a full stomach.”“Is that a challenge?” Jenny asked, eyebrow arching upwards.“I don’t know. Is it?”“Sounds like a challenge to me,” she said, sliding into her seat. “OK, Captain. Game on."





	It Happened One Night

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this way back when 1x09 first aired on TV. _Yeah_. But, um, partially because I've never been satisfied with this fic's opening and partially because it contains the smuttiest scene I've ever written (which, before you get too excited, isn't saying all that much), I never got around to posting it. BUT. When I stumbled across the file, I figured I might as well post it—it's the right time of year and everything, y'know?
> 
> I don't know if there's much of an audience for fics in this fandom anymore, let for alone this particular pairing, but if there's anyone still out there who's interested, I hope you enjoy!

_Ding-dong._

Muttering curses under her breath, Jenny stuffed the plastic container from the store into the recycle bin and buried it under a couple of empty soda cans. It wasn't  _her_ fault Abbie's weird oven had burnt the turkey this morning, leaving her with no choice but to buy one ready-cooked. Not that Abbie had agreed. Jenny could already tell she'd be hearing about that little incident for  _years_ to come.

Didn't mean she wanted to hear _Irving_ twit her about it, though. The man already doubted her cooking abilities; no need to add fuel to the fire.

Shoving the whole lot down deeper into the bin once more just to be safe, she brushed her hands off on her jeans and hurried over to look through the peephole.

Yeah, it was Irving alright. He'd clearly come straight from work, if his clothes were any indication.

She opened the door.

“Hey,” Jenny said. "You made it after all. Gotta warn you—looks like it’s just going to be us tonight."

At the inquiring arch of his eyebrow, she explained, “Crane couldn’t be bothered to leave the Station, so Abbie brought dinner to him. Typical Abbie, really.”

"Ah. Wasn’t sure what you _hadn’t_ made, so I brought some wine,” Irving said, handing her a bottle.

Pursing her lips, Jenny hefted it upwards into the light to examine.

“Niiice,” she said appreciatively. “C’mon, this way. And don’t forget to wipe off your shoes.”

“So this is your sister’s place, huh?” Irving asked, glancing around curiously as he followed her through the living room and into the kitchen.

“That’s right,” Jenny said. “What gave it away? The autographed Mets’ baseball or the modern art prints?”

“The warning about minding my muddy shoes,” Irving said, lips quirking upwards into a faint smile. “You don’t strike me as the sort to care about that sort of thing.”

“Damn straight, I’m not,” Jenny agreed. “Abbie’ll leave a stack of dirty dishes in her sink without a second thought, but mess up her precious floors and there’ll be _hell_ to pay. And I don’t know about you, but I’m plenty busy with the current forces of hell; no point in inviting more.”

Irving chuckled—a deep, rich sound—seeming almost surprised by his own amusement. 

“Didn’t know your sister was a fan of the Mets,” Irving said.

“Oh yeah,” Jenny said, putting the wine down on the counter and pulling the turkey back out from the warmth of the oven. “Ever since she was little.”

“Anything I can do to help?” 

“Set the table?” Jenny said. “Plates are in the cupboard to your left, third shelf. Glasses are on the first shelf, and flatware’s second drawer to your right.”

To her satisfaction, he immediately set about the task she’d assigned him. 

As she uncorked the wine bottle with a gentle _pop_ , Jenny continued, “No, Abbie’s a _huge_ Mets fan. One of the many things about her that hasn’t changed over the years. According to that soldier of hers, she even dragged him along to one of her games.”

“What, Crane?”

Irving seemed to find the mental picture amusing if the look on his face was anything to go by.

“Who else? Does my sister have any other soldiers on hand that I don’t know about?” 

“Well, there’s—” He broke off and hesitated. “I don’t know, Mills. If your sister hasn’t told you, maybe I shoul—”

Jenny laid the last dish—mashed potatoes—on the table and said, “C’mon, you know you want to share.”

“Let’s just say grace and dig into this delicious food,” Irving said. “Maybe you can persuade me to share more later—I’m told I’m more suggestible on a full stomach.”

“Is that a challenge?” Jenny asked, eyebrow arching upwards.

“I don’t know. Is it?”

“Sounds like a challenge to me,” Jenny said, sliding into her seat. “OK, game on, Captain. And since you’re the one who cares about grace, I’ll let you say the blessing.”

“Right,” the man said, taking his own seat. Bowing his head and closing his eyes, he said, “Heavenly father, we thank you for food, health, and company. Amen.”

“Short and sweet,” Jenny said. “I like it.”

“Yeah, well, I was never much of a believer,” Irving said, helping himself to some cranberry relish. “That was more of my wife’s province, to be honest. Speaking of which—”

“It’s fine,” Jenny said. “You’re under no obligation to—”

“—I just wanted to make sure you weren’t made… uncomfortable.”

Jenny shook her head and said, “Well I wasn’t _comfortable_ , but no one said anything unpleasant if that’s what you mean. And frankly, I think I’m a little bit offended that you don’t seem to think that I can handle myself.”

“I’m beginning to learn that,” Irving said wryly.

There was silence for a few minutes as both dug into their food after a long day’s work.

“You’ve got a pretty cool kid,” Jenny said, mentally beating herself up the second the words left her mouth.

“You talked to Macey?”

“More like she talked to me. Can you believe it, she thought we were _dating_!”

Irving laughed awkwardly and said, “So did my wife. Don’t worry—I set her straight.”

“Same,” Jenny said quickly. “Uh, I hope I didn’t cause _you_ any trouble.”

“No, no,” Irving said with careful lightness. “Cynthia was already out for my blood, had nothing to do with you.”

“Macey seemed kinda upset with you too,” Jenny ventured cautiously.

Irving sighed heavily. “They both have the right to be upset. I took this job thinking it’d mean I could spend more time with her, and, well…”

“You got dragged into our mess,” Jenny said.

“Hey, it isn’t your mess,” Irving said. “Unless you’re secretly in charge of the apocalypse?—No, I’m afraid you’re just stuck with me.”

“Well, I suppose you aren’t _completely_ useless to have next to me in a fight,” Jenny said, deadpan.

“I’ll try not to let the praise go to my head,” said Irving.

“See that you don’t.”

A few minutes later, Irving said, “This is really good. What spices did you use in the gluten-free stuffing? The rosemary’s pretty obvious, but I can’t make out the others.”

“Thyme, sage, nutmeg, and black pepper.”

“Nutmeg!” Irving said, snapping his fingers. “ _That’s_ it.”

“Told you I could cook,” Jenny said smugly, taking another bite of turkey.

Raising his hands slightly, Irving said, “I yield.”

“Excellent,” said Jenny. “What’s my prize?”

“Having me admit that I was wrong isn’t satisfaction enough?” Irving asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hardly,” Jenny said with a smirk.

She took another sip of wine from her glass to draw out the moment, then said, “Your forfeit is to tell me about the other soldiers hanging around my sister.” 

“Fair enough,” Irving said. “But you didn’t hear this from me.”

“ _Obviously_ ,” Jenny agreed, leaning in eagerly.

“Your sister used to be involved with a police officer—ex-special forces—at the precinct, one Luke Morales. A good officer, if a touch too fond of office pranks. I don’t know all of the details—it was before my time—but apparently she broke it off when she thought she was going to the Academy. From the looks of it, he’s still interested and trying to rekindle the relationship.” 

“And Abbie?” Jenny asked, eyes serious.

“Don’t know,” Irving said with a shrug. “I haven’t seen her more than two yards away from Crane ever since he showed up, so who knows whether Morales has been able to find a chance to talk to her privately.”

“Yeah, but do you think Abbie is still—”

“—not my business,” Irving said firmly. “But if she’s still interested in him, she’s hiding it pretty well.”

Jenny nodded.

“Now why are you so curious about this, anyway?” Irving asked.

“She’s my sister,” Jenny said. “ _Someone_ has to look out for her.”

“You think she can’t look after herself?”

“Abbie?” Jenny scoffed. “ _Please_. She’s a pro at self-preservation.”

“So then why…?”

“Because she’s my _sister_. You have any siblings, Captain?”

“Two older sisters,” Irving said.

“Then you should know what I mean.”

Lips twisting in a wry smile, Irving said, “I suppose I do.” 

“So,” Jenny said, dumping another helping of mashed potatoes on her plate, “What do you like to do when you aren’t at the precinct?”

“What do _you_ like to do when you aren’t busy preventing the apocalypse?” Irving asked. “Besides stealing innocent police officers’ guns, that is.”

“I gave it back,” Jenny protested. “And you are _not_ innocent. I see what you’re doing here, mister, but I asked first.”

“Well, uh, I like to go hiking. I like practicing on the shooting range. And I enjoy sci-fi films and space opera novels.”

A grin spreading across her face, Jenny said, “You’re a _nerd_.”

“Guilty as charged,” Irving said.

As she continued to look amused, he added, “What, you expected me to deny it? You sayin’ a police officer can’t be a proud fanboy?” 

She waved his statement away, saying, “No, no, that’s not it. Just… here I was picturing you in black leather on a motorcycle, and you turn out to be so _wholesome_ with your exercise and nerdy books.”

Irving chuckled and said, “Well, I do have the black leather jacket, if that counts for anything. And you were actually pretty on the mark—I used to have a motorcycle.”

“Oh yeah?” Jenny asked. “What model?” 

“2000 Suzuki VL 1500 LC Intruder.”

“Not bad. So what happened to it?”

“Sold it right before I moved up here. Too many deer for it to be safe.” 

Laughing, Jenny said, “For the deer?”

“For _me_. You’ve seen what those things can do to a car; do you really think a motorcycle would fare any better?”

Jenny nodded, conceding his point.

“But back to my question. What do you do in your spare time?” he asked.

“Besides prepping for the apocalypse?”

“Besides that,” he agreed.

“Well, I like to cook, as you can see,” Jenny said, gesturing to the full table. “I like to watch bad action flicks—the rom-coms you see on the bookcase over there are my sister’s; she has a weak spot for ‘em—but you didn’t hear that from me. I like running and weight-lifting. And, uh, _maybe_ I enjoy Star Trek reruns.”

Irving grinned.

“And you have the nerve to call _me_ a nerd?” he laughed.

“Hey,” Jenny said, waving her fork remonstratively in his direction, “ _No one_ calls me a nerd.”

“I’m speaking as the King of Nerds here,” Irving pointed out, cutting himself a piece of pie. “It’s not a bad thing.”

“Be that as it may,” Jenny said, “Call me a nerd at your peril.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Irving said.

By the time they’d cleaned their plates, Jenny was feeling mellow from the wine. She suspected Irving was too, as his broad shoulders were looser than they’d been at the beginning of the evening.

Jenny still wasn’t sure how much she _liked_ Irving, but he was surprisingly fun to talk to when he wasn’t being all high-handed and officious. It didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes, either. (What? She was allowed to _notice_.)

Speaking of which…

She looked at the food spread across the table and sighed.

“We probably ought to get this stuff put away,” Jenny said a tad reluctantly.

“Right,” said Irving, clearing his throat. “Where do you want me?”

Jenny arched a brow, not even bothering to conceal her smirk. 

He chuckled.

“OK, I walked into that one,” he conceded.

Still grinning, Jenny said, “If you want to start with the washing up, I’ll get this food packed away.”

It didn’t take long to put all the food away, so Jenny soon joined Irving in washing everything that didn’t fit in the dishwasher.

As she reached for a plate, their fingers met in the warm, soapy water, sending an electric thrill down her spine.

She opened her mouth to apologize or make a joke, but then she made the mistake of looking him in the eyes. They were darker than usual, the pupils blown wide with arousal. The look there was hot; _hungry_. 

She snapped.

Irving didn’t resist when she pushed him back against a cabinet and covered his lips with her own.

They were warm and chapped, and he clearly knew what he was doing with them.

 _Oh_ , he tasted good.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as their tongues entwined and—

They broke apart, gasping for air.

“Just so you know, it takes a little more than a kiss to get me worked up,” said Jenny as coolly as she could.

“Good thing I have a lot of practice at kissing, then,” Irving said, a slow, filthy smile spreading across his face.

Heat pooled in her belly.

An image sprang full-formed into her mind of him on his knees before her, using that mouth for other purposes, and she clenched her legs together at the ache building between her thighs.

“Are you all talk, or are you going to prov—”

He was the one to cut her off with a kiss this time.

Her hand went to his ass, and she pulled him in closer.

His body fit snugly against hers, the length of him warm and hard between the apex of her thighs.

The friction as he adjusted to this new position was… intoxicating.

 _God_ , it had been too long.

One of his hands made its way to a breast and began to tease at the nipple through the layers of fabric. The sensitive nub stiffened under his administrations, making her blood rush even further south.

Gasping at the sensation, she bucked her hips against him, only knowing that she wanted to be closer; _needed_ to be closer; needed _more—_

He groaned against her mouth, and every inch of her body echoed the vibration.

Their kisses turned bruising.

She was fumbling with the buttons on his shirt when—

 _Crash_.

The loud noise worked better than a bucket of cold water.

They immediately broke apart from one another and went for their respective guns.

Then another sound met their ears: laughter.

Letting out a breath, Jenny whispered, “That’s my sister.” 

She didn’t lower her gun, however.

Keeping her gun cocked and level, she crept towards the noises in the next room.

When she stuck her head around the corner, however, her worries were laid to rest. Sprawled half on the sofa, half on the floor, were Abbie and Crane, both of them cackling hysterically.

The front door to the apartment was still open, keys dangling in the lock. That must have been source of the crashing sound.

Sighing, Jenny reapplied the safety, lowered her gun, and called, “It’s safe!”

“Right,” Irving said from a bit behind her (and when had he gotten that close?), putting away his own gun. 

“And you call _me_ the reckless one,” Jenny told her sister disapprovingly, entering the living room. “I could’ve shot you!”

Still giggling, Abbie snorted out, “Reckleeessss. Y’hear that, Crane?”

She nudged him in the ribs, smile wide and bright and utterly uninhibited.

It had been a while since Jenny had seen that expression on her sister’s face. In fact—

 _Oh_.

But Jenny didn’t have time to contemplate her sudden discovery, before Crane, nudging Abbie back delightedly, made his reply.

“Leftenant, you are—you are an _Appalling_ _Influence_!”

Turning his head in Jenny’s direction, he added, “And _you_ , Miss Jenny! You are—I am much obliged to you for such a _delicious repast_.”

Amused, Jenny said, “You’re welcome.”

“I hate to interrupt this little mutual admiration society,” Irving said, not sounding particularly sorry, “But exactly how much did the two of you drink?”

“Welllll,” Abbie said thoughtfully, “We _started_ with a bottle of rum…”

“And an excellent rum it was too!” Crane interrupted, eyes wider than normal. “Why, George Washington himself—”

“We get the picture,” Jenny said drily.

“I do not think you ‘get the picture’, as you so charmingly put it. George Washington was a positive _devotee_ of alcohol, and while he was known to favor a good porter or small beer, I never knew him to turn down any drink; and his wife, I know, had a particular fondness for rum punch.”

“…then we got our hansh on a bottle of whishkey…” continued Abbie.

“That, Madam, was _not_ whiskey!”

“Crane –”

“Thomas Jefferson was a connoisseur of wine, but he had a more than passing familiarity with whiskeys, and I have no doubt that he would agree with me!”

“Didn’t shtop you from drinking it,” Abbie pointed out slyly.

“Yes, well,” he sputtered, “That is not the _point_. That so-called whiskey lacked the proper flavor, the proper body, the proper kick—and I shall write a letter to the distillery and inform them thusly. It was a perfectly serviceable alcohol, but it did not merit the name _whiskey_.”

“It _was_ whishkey though,” Abbie insisted, stumbling to her feet. “C’mon, I’ll prove it. I’ve got my—my laptop in my room—we can look it up online.”

Crane’s already flushed face deepened in color.

“Leftenent, I hardly think the…”

Ignoring Crane’s protests, Abbie pulled him by the hand to her bedroom, and slammed the door behind them.

Silence descended.

“I wouldn’t have taken Crane for the happy type of drunk,” Irving said at last.

“I know, right?” Jenny said, eagerly seizing on the topic. “Thought he’d be the maudlin, philosophical sort.”

“Apparently not.”

“Yeah.”

They fell back into awkward silence.

“So, uh—”

“I was thinking—”

Both broke off.

“You first.”

“No, no, I insist.”

“Hey, _relax_ ,” Jenny said. “It was just a kiss. No big deal; I’m a big girl. I promise, I won’t let it affect our work.”

Irving looked like he wanted to say— _something—_ for a second, and Jenny had to force herself not to fidget.

She _really_ hoped he wasn’t about to get mushy. Getting involved with someone who was obviously still hung up on his ex was always a bad idea, and that was without factoring in the whole end of the world thing.

After a long pause, he finally said, “We good then?”

His voice was gruffer than usual.

“We’re good,” she confirmed.

“…Goodnight, Mills.”

She almost punched him on the shoulder as she showed him out the door, but thought the better of it. That’d be overkill.

“Night, Captain.”

When the door was safely closed behind him, she absentmindedly reached up and touched her lips.

They were still swollen and tingling.

Her whole _body_ was still on edge, humming with desire. 

“Damnit.”


End file.
